[hider=Freyja Haraldsdottir] [center][img]http://th03.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/309/e/3/shieldmaiden_by_morgoth87-d5k1syo.jpg[/img][/center] [center][b]Freyja Haraldsdottir[/b][/center] [center]Death and Glory[/center] Full name: Freyja Haraldsdottir Titles: Jarl, The Black Mane Social rank: Jarl? Highborn? I suppose. Job or societal position: Chieftess, Raiding party leader Age: 19 Gender: Female Appearance: [img]http://31.media.tumblr.com/28656a5a6491d4e3f317b03fdf244e63/tumblr_n5f9eqO7tQ1scyrtto1_500.jpg[/img] Personality: Freyja stands proud amongst her kin as a great leader and warrior, well respected and liked by her followers. And in turn, she cares greatly for her own warriors and family, keeping their needs and concerns in legitimate thought while planning future moves and actions. Those that join her warband are surprised by this attitude more often than not, as it hardly strikes most folk as how a leader might treat her subordinates, let alone those that might be in fairly menial positions. However, this caring attitude does not extend outside her own, coming across as a ruthless and completely intimidating warrioress. Completely without remorse, pity, or fear on the field of battle and politics, Freyja carries with herself an air of unstoppable, unforgettable power and authority that does not just command respect, it demands it and wrenches it from those around her without a care for consent. Her drive to reach her goals and desires in life, and the ruthless efficiency that she pursues them with, is a potent thing indeed. History: Freyja Haraldsdottir, the Blackmane herself, was born to rather simple and humble origins, especially considering the name she would make for herself, in due time. Born to the land of warriors and raiders, the mighty nation known to the foreigners as Andals, as her inhabitants had little need to name the coalition of villages and keeps that made up the land and organized front that it presented to other nations. Many heroes of legend, and raiders of infamy, were born here, and it is of little surprise one such as Freyja would hail from here. Her father was a known chieftain of a tribe, one that was generally well off and well received and respected by their peers. She never knew her mother, for such was the birthing that it slew her mother in the effort. Without a mother figure, Freyja was raised as a warrior and raider by her father, following in his own footsteps and was to be expected, at some point, to take the place of her aging father as Chieftain of the tribe. This was for the sole fact that the aging man had no son to pass the title on to, and determined himself to raising her as a warrior and son as much as a daughter. Growing up had been harsh on Freyja initially, more so as the daughter of the chieftain then anything else. Everyone expected far more out of her than your average daughter in the tribe would have been expected to have been. A lesser woman might have buckled under that pressure, but Freyja was destined for great things. Going out on every raid and dual of honor between villages that she could, the respect of her peers was fast won, and even other villages would speak of the warrioress that seemed unstoppable in fury, but was beloved by those she served with. In due time, her skill as a warrioress would never be in question, raiding parties and warbands openly seeking her talent whenever she was available. However, her father grew ill as a raid upon the Whitelands grew nigh, and she was asked by her father to take command and lead the raid. While this would be her first foray into such places, she accepted without a moments hesitation, marshalling the band of raiders and warriors into highly drilled and even more talented formations than normal and off the band went into the Whitelands, to raid and pillage for glory and spoils. The band went from town to town, raiding and razing the places before moving on, staying ahead of any retribution that might be following after them. The band even was able to find and sack a place of holy significance to the Whitelands, a holy site that was left charred and devoid of anything useful or valuable. Freyja’s first leadership test was a resounding success, and she came back to her home in glory and celebration, but when she tried to find her father, the old man had passed while she had been raiding. Celebration tempered by mourning and duty, Freyja had set out burning and mourning the man who raised her and preparing for her own new duties she would be assuming. For three years Jarl Freyja would keep the hounds at bay, lording over her holdings with a fair, firm grasp that was well received by the people who lived under her banner, even if those surrounding her land did not agree so keenly on the matter. For three years, the walls held out the solidifying coalition of other tribes and leaders who wanted the lands and people of the land for their own devices, and for three years she gave little ground, but was indeed slowly pushed back and constricted by the weight of being so vastly outnumbered, even if one of her warriors was worth dozens of the enemies. With her people and army in ruins, Freyja had few options. Allow herself to be captured or slain in combat, and suffer whatever indignities and horrors that would be inflicted should she be captured by the jealous lords surrounding her, or she could flee. And Freyja chose to take a solitary longboat, sixty three of her people, and a handful of slaves and thralls before escaping with them. It was a hard journey across the sea, fleeing from the land she had been born to and defended and fought for fiercely, but she had little recourse in the matter. Finally landing back in the Whitelands, Freyja laid down the foundations for a fortified camp without a moments wasted time, hurrying to be able to defend against any vultures or enemies that might attack and pick at the remains of her people. A local noble thought the harried and outnumbered heathens would be easy prey, but after the first battle, was clearly wrong. Now that he was stuck in such a fight, he had little choice but to see it out, and eventually ended up in captivity of Freyja, whom now awaited the other foot to fall. For other foreigners to come demanding the release of the fool nobleman and the offers of bail and whatever else they might have to speak to the exiled Jarl about. Skills: Diplomacy, Tactics, Ground Combat, Leadership, Talented Musician, Intimidation, and goat herding/keeping. Dreams and fears: She dreams of being everyone elses fear, a unstoppable force on the face of the world, revered and honored in glory. She fears becoming nothing, nothing more than a benchmark in time. Favored equipment: (From closest to the skin to the outermost layer) The first thing she puts on is under garments obviously followed by shirt and pants made of wool and a pair of thick leather boots. next comes her leather vest and forearm guards, this is followed by a chainmail hauberk with a thick leather belt, and finally a set of iron shoulder plates. She carries a bearded axe single handed, and a round viking shield, as a backup weapon she carries a seax in her belt. Warhorn Extra: She has a longboat Soldiers, 15 Militia Spearmen 5 Archers 5 Long Axe Men 8 Hirdsmen 30 Rowers (These count as basic militia, clubs shields, some axes.) [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sCkAvh50Vs] Theme Song [/url] [/hider]